Unwelcome company
by kyriem
Summary: A Night Elf Druid clashes with an Orc Hunter.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I don't own WoW or Blizzard…this is my own attempt at a story. Edit: combined the 2nd chapter to this one, they were too short on their own.

With a relieved sigh, the druid sat back on her haunches, her back to large a tree she'd found far enough away from the road, and slid her bag off of tired shoulders. She rummaged through the bag purposefully, withdrawing a shiny red apple and a flask of water. After a careful inspection in the sunlight to ensure no nasty little critters had wormed their way inside the apple, she buffed it against her pant leg and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. She munched slowly, thoughtfully taking in her surroundings. Rolling green hills, small clusters of large shady trees, and an endless blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. There was a gentle, warm breeze that smelled of grass and fresh air, while in the distance, a small herd of Talbuk were grazing peacefully.

It was hard to believe she had finally arrived in Nagrand. It had taken her almost two years of hard work to get here, after starting out as a lowly recruit in the terrifying Hellfire Peninsula. She would never forget her initial shock when she'd first arrived on the ailing planet - the harsh, barren and jagged landscape of Hellfire, combined with the overwhelming scent of acrid smoke that made her eyes water and head dizzy. The red ochre dust that permeates the air, settling all over one's body and finding ways into the mouth and coating the throat, leaving it dry and cracked. And then those _moons! _(Or planets, some may say)_. _They'd seemed close enough to touch, beautiful yet ominous at the same time - hovering orbs that never allowed one the courtesy to at least _pretend_ they were far away from that hellish place. There was always an undeniable feeling of despair and loneliness as soon as one entered the area, and she'd worked _hard_ to get the hell out of there for her own sanity.

Now that she was finally here in Nagrand, she felt she could slow down her frantic pace. Tossing her apple core aside and taking a sip of water from her flask, she rolled her shoulders one at a time, trying to ease the stiffness. She combed long fingers through her shoulder length, somewhat choppy moss green hair, working out the snags, and winced – her hair definitely could use a wash. In fact, _all_ of her needed a wash she thought with a wry smile. She was covered in dust and grime, and her simple leather armour was now stiff and dry, forever damaged from dirt and her own sweat. There had been little opportunity for her to clean it daily in order to keep it smooth and supple, so now she'd have to fork over her hard earned gold to have a new set made. Her elongated eyebrows furrowed at that thought, attempting to calculate exactly how much it would set her back. With a worried bite of her lip, she pulled out her map of Nagrand instead, tracing an elegant finger along the path she'd followed south out of Zangarmarsh. It would lead her south and then west for some time, before turning east and south once more to the Alliance camp called Telaar.

She wondered briefly if she would bump into anyone she knew from Azeroth when she arrived at Telaar, but the odds were decidedly slim. The druid had always been a loner in the eyes of the few that knew her, but she did not see that way. She had plenty of friends that were always happy to see her and she them – moonstalkers from Darkshore, bears of Ashenvale, even the wolves in Winterspring. They felt comfortable and trusting around her, and she strongly preferred their company to her own kind, or any of the other races that populated Azeroth. Animals she could trust, but people she did not. Even if she did run into any previous acquaintances, she had no intention of pairing or grouping up to scout the area together. She worked far better on her lonesome, anyway.

As she began to re-fold the map, she heard a sharp _SNAP_. She froze; map in hand only partly closed. She cocked her head slightly to the left, in the direction of a stand of trees and bush backed by a rocky, steep hill, her long elven ears listening intently. _CRUNCH_. There it was again, but this time it sounded as if something had stepped or fallen on one of the bushes. Something or someone was surely over there, not twenty feet from her. She quickly racked her brains for a plan of escape, while her overactive mind bombarded her with terrifying images of what could be sulking in the bush. The land was so open here and there was nowhere to hide. She sat up slightly, preparing to leap and run away from whatever came, when she heard a whimper. Her heart leapt into her throat; it was most certainly an animal, and it sounded fearful and in pain. Without hesitation, she jumped up and ran over to the bush where she'd heard the noise. Her heart felt as if it would pound its way out of her chest when there she found a large grey wolf, lying on its side on, or rather inside of a dented bush. Its eyes were wide with fear, teeth bared, and tongue lolling out of its mouth while panting heavily. She crouched down beside the wolf. "What happened to you?" she murmured, her hand hovering over the wolf's side. The look it gave her was a fearful one, but calm enough, seeming to know she would not harm him. Her gentle fingers probed along the wolf's side, searching for the injury. She found it to be a long gash on the wolf's underbelly, and her hand came up sticky with blood. She wiped her hand on the grass while she tried to control the overflow of emotions, her pang of empathy for the wolf. The wolf tried to sit up and see what she was doing, but she pushed it back down slowly with her other hand. "Shhh" she whispered, "Don't move, I will take care of you". The wolf flopped back down with a huff, resigning itself to her doctoring.

Under normal circumstances, the druid made a fine healer, but the journey to Nagrand had left her mana pool weak and drained. With a snap decision, the druid ran back to her earlier resting spot and snatched her bag and raced back to the wolf. She dumped the contents of the bag on the ground, clutching her netherweave bandages, a small pot, a mortar and pestle, plus a few select pouches of herbs. Ancient Lichen to staunch the bleeding, Briarthorn for mending, and Bruiseweed for the pain, she thought methodically. She grabbed some stones from the base of the rocky hill and set them in a haphazard ring to keep a soon-to-be fire contained. She grabbed what little wood and dried grass she found strewn about and quickly set to start the flame. As the flame caught, she emptied her flask of water into the small pot and rested it over the fire. Now, she needed to focus on what was left of her mana pool. She called upon the power she could feel coursing through her veins and attempted to direct it to the gash on the wolf. She trembled, feeling dizzy, but forced herself to think of the wolf's pain, and channeled the healing spell she knew by heart. Finally, her hands glowed with a soft green, and a smell of pine wafted through the air. She clutched desperately at it, urging it to grow.

After what felt like hours, though it was really only seconds, a green mist enveloped the wolf like a warm blanket. The wolf whimpered, unsure at first, but relaxed as the pain eased. The druid rewarded the wolf with a tired smile and a quick scratch behind the ear, before turning her attention to back the fire. When the water was boiling, she set about making the poultice and spread it onto long lengths of netherweave bandages. She placed them gently along the wound, then wrapped over and under with the rest of the bandages, gently lifting the wolf up to reach underneath. The druid worked the rest of the afternoon and well into the night setting up camp, changing the bandages, and channelling her healing when it was possible. It was dark our when she finally sat back, wiping the sweat off her brow. The wolf was now sleeping peacefully, and it gave her a peaceful feeling of content, and a smile lit her face. "But now, what am I going to do with you?" she said quietly. The wolf's ear twitched and it began snoring. She giggled. It would take some time for the wound to mend, so travel was off the agenda until then. She crawled over to the wolf and gently lifted a leg to take a peek. "A boy. I'll call you Jårk" she whispered into the night.

* * *

Zurug awoke to a pounding headache. It felt as if his head were an anvil, and someone was gleefully taking a hammer to it. He rolled over on his side and moaned, covering his face with both hands. He attempted opening his eyes, but they seemed glued shut. Annoyed, he pried them open using his thumbs and index fingers. After wiping the crud away, he blinked slowly and took in his surroundings, all the while cringing every time that blasted hammer hit his anvil of a head.

He was in a circular room, Orcish by the looks of it. That was a relief. To his left, seemingly the center of the room, stood a large umbrella of sorts. In front of said umbrella stood a familiar handsome female Orc with purple spiked hair, wearing a beige and purple robe. She was facing the entrance, which was really just an open wall. He sat up quickly, startling the few patrons that loitered about. He was at the inn in Garadar, laying on a soft pile of furs. "What happened?", he groaned aloud, his left hand reaching to cradle the back of his head. With a start, he realized his head was wrapped in something, all the way around. A bandage? What the heck happened to me, he thought. A putrid stench wafted towards him just then, and there was a noise as if someone were shoveling dirt that had him whipping his eyes towards his feet, and the source of the sound.

At his feet crouched a Forsaken, a shadow priest, by the looks it. Her yellow greasy hair hung limp around her face, her skin ghostly pale with a greenish tinge. There was a thoroughly rotted hole in her right cheek that exposed her jaw and what few teeth she had left. Her other cheek had a tiny hole by comparison, with the surrounding area bulging out and seemingly throbbing. Zurug watched with repulsion as a maggot wormed its way out of the small hole and into the forsaken's mouth. Zurug began to heave, making an awful retching sound before closing his eyes and calming himself, thinking of anything but what he just saw. When he opened them again, the priest's face had mutated into a pathetic excuse for what Zurug assumed was a smile, and again there was that noise like shoveling dirt. "What the - are you laughing?" he asked with disgust. The priest cackled with glee and nodded, opening her mouth as if to speak but only a gurgling noise came out. She wiped her rotting mouth with her putrid left hand, and a thick green slime came out with the maggot visibly trapped in the center. This time Zurug really did vomit.

"Maggie", a gravelly male voice growled, "leave him be". The Forsaken, presumably Maggie, scampered off and out of the inn, cackling all the while. A waft of putrid flesh followed her. An older Orc with brown skin then approached Zurug, offering his arm in greeting. They clasped forearms with a grunt. "Name's Ogruk" he offered, "the crazy priest, she won't speak a word unless it's her own name. Just comes strolling into Garader one night, dragging a comatose orc under a levitation spell. Do you remember any of it? What's your name?".

Zurug sighed and shook his head. "My name is Zurug", he replied. "I only remember I was out hunting West of here, with my wolf." His eyes widened suddenly and his face contorted with panic. "My wolf! where is he? is he O.K!?".

Ogruk held his hands up and shook his head. "The priest only brought you in, there was no wolf. You can try asking her but I doubt you'll get an answer." He cleared his throat, then "So, you're sure you saw nothing? nothing out of the ordinary? people are worried you know, seeing as to how you arrived," he asked with suspicion.

"No, I don't remember. How long have I been out?" he asked nervously, hoping his wolf was OK and hadn't been on his own for too long.

"You've been here three days, and tonight will be your fourth night. Anyway, if you remember anything, seek me out straight away. I'll get someone to clean up this mess" with a glance at the vomit, the older Orc strode out, barking orders at a pair of grunts who happened to be walking past the entrance.

Zurug sat, lost in thought. He remembered hunting, and it was dark out, and then...and then...dang. He really couldn't remember anything beyond that. He tried to reach out to his wolf with his mind, but felt nothing. Either he was too far away, or…he didn't want to think about it. He needed to get out of here as quickly as possible and find out what happened. He stood up and stretched before rooting around in the furs for his belongings, careful to avoid the vomit. Thankfully, his bag was there and his gold intact. He strode over to the innkeeper and purchased some Clefthoof ribs, knowing it was a favourite of his beloved wolf. After thanking the innkeeper for her hospitality and apologizing profusely about the mess, to which she waved a hand in the air as if it were commonplace, he set out to find the priest. A grunt outside the inn pointed a thick finger towards the lake when he asked if he'd seen the Forsaken. Zurug made his way in the direction the grunt advised, and found the priest sitting cross legged at the shore of the small lake, fishing pole in hand. The waves gently lapped the shore, soaking the hem of her dress which she seemed not to notice. He tried to gain her attention by clearing his throat. "Ahem...ahem". She peered up at him with her glowing orbs for eyes, and flashed him a wicked smile when she recognized the Orc. She patted the ground beside her, motioning for him to sit.

"Maggie" she stated, matter of factly. The way in which she said it sounded as if she were breathing in as she spoke.

He nodded at her and confirmed her statement by repeating her name. "Maggie" he gasped, trying to breathe in through his mouth to avoid her decaying stench. "Maggie", he continued, "I want to thank you for bringing me to the inn."

She cackled in reply, and cast her fishing line into the lake. "Maggie", she wheezed in response.

"Yes, Maggie. When you...found me, was there a wolf? I mean, my wolf, my pet. Was he there?" his eyes bored into hers, eager for the answer. She smiled wickedly, then bobbed her head. "My wolf was there? was he OK?" Zulug asked, trying not to work himself into a frenzy. At this the priest set down her pole, and shook her head no. She laid down on her side, curled into a ball, and whimpered. She sat up again and peered curiously at the Orc's stricken face.

"Where...where did you see him?" he choked out.

Maggie stood up and motioned for him to follow, cackling and mumbling her own name. She's a complete nut, he thought as he stood, and I highly doubt it was her undeath that caused it. He grabbed her fishing pole and motioned for her to lead the way, and the pair set off, taking the path West out of Garadar.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, she awoke to something wet, and slightly rough on her smooth face. She peered through half-closed eyelids to see a blur of white and pink. Jårk was awake, and was giving her his best, big goofy wolf grin, large pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. She sat up a bit, against the trunk of a tree. She had formed a sort of hammock out of her leather cloak the night before, and had hoisted Jårk up a tree using a crude pulley system, using the leather later to serve as padding from the bare branch. They'd slept for some time up there, Jårk's head in her lap, as safe as they could be from predators.

She formed a visor with her hand to check the sun, estimating it to be late in the afternoon. She was tired still, and would have liked to have slept for a few more hours, seeing as she'd had no chance to sleep the day before. With a sigh, she patted the wolf on his head. "I bet you're hungry, aren't you?" she said. The wolf yipped and licked her face again. "Okay, okay!" she giggled, "We have to get you down first". She checked his wound and was satisfied with its progress; it had almost completely healed, enough so that the wolf could now be up and about on his own. With that settled, she wrapped him in the makeshift hammock again and tied the sides together with rope. While clutching onto the rope like a monkey, she gently pushed the bundle over the other side of the branch. She scurried down the rope and gently lowered Jårk to the ground after, where he came scrambling out in a tumble of fur and, once he untangled himself, began bounding about her in circles. She laughed at his antics while pulling out her map. She wasn't entirely sure what the wolf would eat, but figured she'd try starting with the easiest for her, that being fish. She double checked the map to confirm their direction – there was a large lake to the east, and although there was a horde post on the southern shore, she figured they could keep to the north west tip of the lake and remain relatively hidden, especially with the sun setting soon. She reattached her now covered in white hair cloak, stuffed the rope in her seemingly bottomless and very expensive enchanted bag, and they set out east, the wolf playfully pouncing at her heels while feeling the need to mark his territory at every bush and tree.

By the time they arrived at the calm lake, the sun had set, leaving only the light of the eerie alien moon. Jårk lapped at the water and then sat down with a huff, scratching his ear with his hind leg. He then laid down and rolled in the grass beside her, grunting with pleasure. She rolled her eyes and reached in her bag, pulling out a well-used fishing pole. Several casts later, she was pleased to have caught six plump trouts. She offered one to Jårk who sniffed at it, then sneezed and turned his head way, refusing to look at the fish. "You don't like it?" she asked. "What if I cook it?" the wolf, head still turned away, eyed her warily out of the corner of his eye. "Well it's all I can get, I'm a healer, not a hunter!" she huffed, and set about starting a fire. The wolf in turn flopped down with a moan, his belly gurgling with hunger.

* * *

"Are you certain this is where you found us?" he asked Maggie, who nodded her head eagerly. She had led him to the west side of the road that headed north to Zangarmarsh, or south to Sunspring Post. Zurug turned around so his back was to her, and scratched his head with a finger. "I don't remember coming this far west, I'm pretty sure we didn't cross over the road". Maggie scratched her head in imitation, tearing a piece of the rotted flesh on her scalp which came off under her fingernail. She flicked it off with disinterest, almost hitting the orc in the back of the head. He didn't notice, and began searching the ground for traces of his wolf. It was now late in the afternoon, and as time dragged on he was becoming more and more desperate. He got on his hands and knees and crawled around, inspecting the ground not an inch from his nose. A gurgling noise from behind distracted him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Maggie in the same position, crawling on her hands and knees, except she was staring into the sky. He covered his face with his palm. Why me? He thought. "Maggie", he said. "Maggie" she wheezed in reply. "Could you wait here?" he asked, "I think I've found something, but I need to be alone in order to concentrate". The priest bobbed her head and sat cross legged, watching him with a serious expression. Satisfied, the orc resumed his tracking, scuttling through the bush along the road.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" the stealthed rogue whispered to her friend, also a rogue. He smirked at the sight in reply; a large, supposedly fearsome orc crawling about on his hands knees, seemingly dragging his face on the ground, while a forsaken female followed behind him, staring up at the darkening sky. The pair of rogues stopped to watch, sniggering.

"We can take them, but that'd probably be doing the horde a favour" the first rogue said with a sneer.

"I don't know Ally, we really don't have the time. They're loonies anyway by the looks of it, and we can always come back later", Tim replied.

They watched with amusement as the Orc looked over his shoulder and said something to the Forsaken, who then sat cross legged as the Orc resumed his craziness.

"We should at least take her out, she'd be easy, she's wearing cloth" Ally said. She drummed her fingers along the hilt of her dagger. "We'd have her out before the Orc even notices. Besides, wasn't it a Forsaken that killed your sister?"

Tim sighed. "Alright, but we need to be quick, we still need to reach Telaar by morning".

Ally nodded her head and slowly unsheathed her daggers, careful not to make a noise. The pair crept forward and froze as the Forsaken suddenly looked over her shoulder, and seemed to be staring right at them even through their stealth.

"Can she see us?" Tim whispered, his heartbeat doubling in pace.

"Nah. Keep going, and we may as well get the Orc after." His friend said with a beckoning wave of her hand.

They started to creep forward again, but stopped and exchanged puzzled expressions when they noticed a purple orb was starting to grow in the Forsaken's rotting hand. With eyes still locked in their direction, the Forsaken lazily flicked the orb at them, the bolt of shadow just missing Ally's head as they dove. They turned around and gasped at the crater the bolt had left in the ground. The shadow priest regarded them coolly, her yellow orbs for eyes never wavering from their direction.

"Shit" Ally said, "She definitely can see us, and she's not some newb. Time to go!" They scrambled up and backed away slowly, keeping eye contact with the bored looking Forsaken, and with a glance at the back of the oblivious Orc's head, they ran away as fast as their legs could carry them, towards Telaar and away from the powerful shadow wielder.

* * *

"There!" he yelled suddenly, crawling as fast as his hands and knees could take him, and picked a soft tuft of white fur off a tangle of bush. He inhaled the fur deeply. "Yep, that's him!" he exclaimed. Maggie clapped her rotted hands, excitedly for her, but to anyone else it was more of a golf clap.

Zurug's excitement quickly dissipated when he saw the tell-tale dark stain of blood on the ground. 'Wolf!" he cried out. "Maggie, come! there's a trail of…just come here!". The Orc rose and quickly tracked the trail of blood back east across the road with the priest in tow, all the way to a pathetic, crumpled looking bush. He found tufts of white matted fur in the brambles, and pulled them out aggressively, angry at the bush. "He was here, dammit, but the blood seems to stop as well" he growled. He quieted for a moment, the soft Nagrand breeze tickling his hair into his ears. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down, when he caught a strong, musky scent on the air. He knew that smell, and he had never been so happy to smell it. "He peed!" Zurug shouted with joy, running downwind, leading them further east. Maggie cackled and strutted behind him, very pleased with the events of the day.


End file.
